


falling apart (you broke me)

by skittykitty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), Kidnapping, Rituals, Violence, Young Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-13 12:43:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18469219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittykitty/pseuds/skittykitty
Summary: Morfin Gaunt, surrounded by an empty house and unable to recover from his trip into Azkaban, decides to kidnap a child to have some company.





	falling apart (you broke me)

**Author's Note:**

> i swear corvus is harry i promise

Morfin Gaunt had little going for him in life. He didn’t have an education. He couldn’t speak a lick of English. He could only speak in hisses that, while they sounded ethereal to his ears, sounded like a man's last dying breaths to anyone normal. Like those filthy Muggles living outside, breathing the fresh air, climbing trees, _living._

Merlin—or was it God?—he _hated_ this. He was supposed to be an adult. Supposed to be independent. _Free._ He was supposed to be able to fly to the heavens on a broom. To feel the wind all around him. To have _friends._ People who would flock towards him—not for his money, or political power, or for being able to speak Parseltongue, but because they _liked him._

But no. There was no ultimate goal for him. Most teenagers had goals and dreams of something after school. Dreamed of being a Quidditch Player, or a model, or something else.

All Morfin wanted was a _shred_ of freedom.

* * *

 

Morfin, the _idiot_ he was, was insanely protective of his little sister. With her light hair—a nice brown color, much more pleasing than the black hair he had inherited from his father—he knew she could attract unsavory attention from unworthy Muggles. He had to protect her.

Even though they couldn’t speak to each other—and maybe she might be scared of him? Though he had no idea _why_ exactly—he loved her. She was the light to his life, what kept him going when he turned 17 and still couldn’t leave the house.

He took care of her as an older brother would. She was worth the tiny amount of freedoms he was spared. His father did not care what happened to his sister since she could not speak the noble tongue. He didn’t care. She had been tiny when she was born, completely dependent on him.

He wished she was still so tiny. Sure, she was skinny and complacent still but it wasn’t the same.

She didn’t hold onto him as if he was her only life-line. Like if he so much as looked away from her she’d turn to dust. As if without his attention, she’d never have existed anyway.

To have such… _power_ over someone made him overconfident.

At some point in the years he had taken to hurting his little sister. He had seen his father doing it and assumed it was fine.

Damn, he regretted that.

Before he had hurt her she had sat near him. Laid her head on his shoulder while he played with snakes. She would lay her hand over his and mumble some words he couldn’t comprehend.

Some days he even allowed her to pet his snakes. She loved it so much.

But… after the pain of that day, of a bruise forming on her cheek, of tears and slamming doors… none of that happened anymore.

She had run away from the house.

Away from _him._

Although she did come back, she was changed.

She was silent, gazing off into the distance most times. She was always distracted in the morning.

When the filthy muggles passed.

_No. She couldn’t be listening for them. She wouldn’t betray him like that._

But he had seen her staring at _Tom Riddle_ like he had become her savior. _Like he had replaced Morfin._

_That wouldn’t do._

* * *

 

Okay, so, maybe trying to _kill him_ was overdoing it, but he had tried to take his baby sister from him! That just couldn’t do.

So what if they had booted him into Azkaban? His sister would wait for him.

She always did.

* * *

 

The house was quiet. Dust piled on the snake carcass nailed onto his bedroom door. Nothing stirred in the abandoned shack.

Morfin dusted off the bed to go to sleep, pretending his sister was just ignoring him again.

* * *

 

The house was too quiet.

Too lonely.

But no one would ever willingly enter the Gaunt home.

* * *

 

Morfin stumbled around the town, his clothes far too thin to keep him comfortably warm.

Shakily, his hands curled together to savor the slight warmth between them.

Merlin. He missed his father and Merope. They had controlled him too much for his liking but he _missed_ them.

Marvolo had been killed by some Muggle filth! They had ganged up on him, after he had returned from Azkaban and _killed him._

And Merope, sweet Merope had died of a broken heart.

He was the only Gaunt left.

If he died without a child the line would die off.

It was his responsibility now that his father was gone to further the line.

A cry jerked in from his thoughts, as he quickly found the spawn of the cry. A baby. His parents were Muggles but that didn’t matter.

He had silky black hair and bright green eyes, and was pale enough to pass for a Gaunt.

Morfin didn’t need to think twice.

He took the baby and gave him a better name than whatever those Muggles had called him.

The kid was going to be called Corvinus Henry Gaunt.

* * *

 

So as it turned out, Morfin was lucky the Muggles had already done most of the infant rearing. Now all he had to do was actually raise the kid.

While everyone seemed to run away from him in fear they’d hurt him, Harry hugged him. And babbled English at him. And tried to tell him he loved Morfin. _(Probably.)_

Merlin. He’d do anything to protect this kid’s innocence.

* * *

 

Morfin realized his problem very quickly.

He couldn’t speak English, and Corvus couldn't understand Parseltongue.

Good thing he knew a ritual to fix that problem.

* * *

 

Corvus sat in the middle of a ritual circle. His skin bare as the day he had been born. He awkwardly tried to cover his privates, a light blush on his face as tried to lean away from Morfin’s intense gaze.

The man wasn’t staring at him, not truly. He stared at the designs covering his skin. There was ink covering his chest, legs, and arms. Corvus did not know what it was for, though he felt a strange foreboding feeling travel through him.

Morfin, finally looking away from the child, drew a dagger. He stared at the weapon for a few seconds before approaching Corvus.

The spine of the knife traced the ink on his collarbone before flipping, digging easily into his skin. The hole in his skin stayed empty for a few seconds before overfilling with blood.

As the blood streamed down his chest, Morfin continued to cut into the markings on his back. Corvus tried his hardest to stay still, but it hurt so bad. His life-blood was pouring out of him like a waterfall from different holes inside of him.

Was this how he would die?

Darkness crept around his gaze as his eyes fell shut.

* * *

 

A chanting filled the room, waking Corvus from his momentary reprieve. Bleary-eyed, he glanced around the room.

He was sitting in a large puddle of blood, barely conscious. Morfin had put the knife somewhere out of his line of sight, though he had cut open his own wrist.

He nudged his wrist into Corvus’s mouth incessantly, hissing a chant as he did it. As his own blood fled from his body, Morfin’s blood flooded his abandoned veins.

Falling back out of consciousness, he slumped boneless into Morfin’s grasp.

* * *

 

 _“Son. My son,”_ a whisper-like voice sounded from his side. _“Corvus, wake up. See your father, I must see if the ritual worked. If you are no longer a filthy Muggle. If you are a Gaunt.”_

A groan sounded from Corvus as he stretched slightly, moving to face his father.

_“What?”_

* * *

 

Corvus Gaunt was seven years old and his only friend was a Muggle. He knew his father would punish him if he found out, but Harry was so nice and he was never cruel to him like some other Muggles.

He offered him candy and to play games and _Merlin_ he wanted to, but he couldn’t loiter for too long, for the chance of Morfin finding out of his misdeeds.

No.

He wouldn’t socialize with muggles, even if they were nice.

They’d only hurt him in the end.

* * *

 

Harry had, after months of pestering, finally gotten to hangout with Corvus. The kid was nice, and cute but he had so many secrets!

Harry hoped he could unravel every single one of them.

Corvus was his mystery to solve. And he wouldn’t accept anyone taking that away from him.

* * *

 

“CORVUS!” A screech echoed through the alley the two boys sat in. “GET YOUR ARSE OUT HERE RIGHT _NOW!”_ And so Corvus ran to his father.

Harry looked on, worried, but decided to wait for Corvus.

“Just _what_ do you think you’re doing?” Morfin growled, stalking closer to Corvus, madness shining in his eyes.

“F—father, I was just—“ He scrambled for an answer as the giant of a man backed him into a wall.

“Just _what,_ Corvus?” His voice had a dangerous edge to it, Harry knew what it meant.

Pain. Being locked in the cupboard for hours. Not eating for the day.

“Just—just—I made a _friend!”_ Morfin narrowed his eyes, not trusting his answer in the slightest.

“Show me.”

And so he led him to the alley where Harry sat, waiting for him.

“M—Morfin, this is Harry—!” Morfin quickly cut him off, glaring daggers at Harry.

“A _Muggle!”_ He growled, already grabbing at Harry.

“Y—yes, he’s a Muggle, but he’s really nice!” He tried to justify, tried to save Harry.

“No. Corvus, you’re going to _learn now_ why I hate the scum that are Muggles.”

What?

Morfin pulled out his wand, pointing it at Harry. “Crucio,” he whispered with glee coating his voice.

As Harry began to _scream,_ his muscles twisting his body into the wall, his voice cracking as the pain overloaded his mind.

“Corvus, I dearly hope you’ve learnt your lesson, or I’ll have to do this again!” A laugh overtook Morfin’s body, his sides shaking as he cackled.

Corvus, shaking now, began to run home. He’d hide in the cupboard until Morfin went to sleep.

* * *

 

Morfin didn’t come home that night.

Or the day after.

Or for a week.

It was two and a half weeks until someone knocked on the door.

A teenager stood in front of him, he had dark hair, dark eyes, though really pale skin. The teen seemed surprised a _kid_ had opened the door.

“Is… this the Gaunt residence?” He asked calmly, narrowing his eyes at Corvus.

“Yes.” He answered blandly. He was hungry, he had run out of food a couple days ago and didn’t have the money to buy food.

“May I come in?” He asked smoothly, gesturing out in front of him.

“No.” And he locked the door, preventing one Tom Riddle from his goal.

* * *

 

Going to sleep that night, he tried to focus on little things rather than the gaping hole inside of him.

Sure, Morfin could be _horrible_ at times but some days he told Corvus how much he loved him! And that felt… _amazing._

It was like the first he had met Harry the Muggle.

But he didn’t want to think about his father.

No. He’d think about one Tom Riddle.

The guy was odd, one of the only people (besides Aurors) who had knocked on the Gaunt family’s door. He seemed pleasant, but Corvus didn’t care much.

He didn’t want anyone to visit until his father returned. Especially not some Muggle.

* * *

 

A knock sounded again the next day.

“Who is it?” It was too early in the morning to be talking to anyone.

“My name is Tom Riddle and I believe I may have the inheritance for this house.”

“Unlikely, now _leave.”_ Corvus tried to slam the door in his face again, but Tom caught the door.

“Now tell me your name, Child.” Oooh, he sounded annoyed!

Good.

“Nope.”

“Tell me your name and I’ll leave.” After a long pause—unknowing to him, Tom Riddle smirked behind the door—he decided not to.

“Nah.” And slammed the door shut.

After many more tries, Tom finally snuck into the house. Corvus was dead asleep, and Tom wanted to keep him that way.

He was hit with a sleeping spell, just in case.

Tom, after searching for and finding the Gaunt Ring, picked up the sleeping child. He had decided to keep the kid, just in case he might be useful.

After all, they were the last two Parselmouths in the world.


End file.
